


Shorts

by kakkoweeb



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, M/M, One Shot Collection, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2020-07-27 23:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 8,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20054368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakkoweeb/pseuds/kakkoweeb
Summary: A cross-post of short (?) stories from tumblr. It's a different ship or character per chapter.[chapter breakdown]





	1. oikage, arm-wrestling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's another cross-post from tumblr, for portfolio and convenience reasons. i'm going to let each one stay on top for about a week or so to give people the chance to properly view it. some of these are going to be a little different from the ones on tumblr because they were written so long ago and when i reread them, i got the urge to edit them. but that's only some; others, i'm too lazy to edit
> 
> anyways. have some arm-wrestling children

“Are you ready, Tobio-chan?”

Tooru has his elbow propped up on a small folding table his fellow third years had snagged from the janitor’s closet, hand open and ready. He sits in the middle of a considerable crowd, anticipation oozing from their gazes alone.

And across him, Tobio sits still and straight, gazing at his fingers and palm with glimmering, studious eyes. “Ready,” he says, placing his own elbow on the playing field.

This junior of his truly is most entertaining, Tooru thinks as he grins, truly does have too much courage (stupidity) for his own good. He’s only twelve, Tooru a whole two years older and stronger, and if he thinks he can defeat his super awesome senior at arm-wrestling, he’s sadly mistaken. Tooru's sure he has this in the bag, he’s _so _gonna make Tobio look bad in front of the entire team and prove his superiority, he can’t wait to see the look on the dummy’s face when—

Tobio locks their hands together.

Then Tooru feels his entire body stiffen, caught only half-prepared by the suddenness of the gesture. The hand now in his is small, really small, fits almost too snugly in the space his own doesn’t take up. Tobio’s skin is surprisingly smooth save for his fingers, still calloused and grating on the back of Tooru’s palm, and incredibly soft. Pleasantly warm. Tooru feels the tips of his ears matching the heat the moment Tobio’s grip tightens.

This is nice, he thinks, gasping softly to himself, both in realization and defiance as he stares at their hands, joined so comfortably it’s like they belong together. Holding Tobio’s hand is really, really _nice_.

“And, go!”

Tooru’s entire arm hits the table.

The entirety of the gym falls silent, every pair of eyes staring at the arm of a third year (a victim of a hate crime, _injustice__)_ crushed underneath that of a first year, a scene that is to be painted in Kitagawa Daiichi history as The Death of Oikawa Tooru.

And then twenty something middle schoolers are howling, falling to the floor and smacking it, cheeks stinging from the magnitude of their toothy, uninhibited grins, eyes squeezed too tightly together to see the reddish glow on Tooru’s skin or the offense on his face as he rises and yells and leaves a very confused Tobio in his wake, still by the arena (the place of murder, the scene of the crime), frowning.

Arm-wrestling is now officially banned. Captain’s orders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bear with me
> 
> || [tumblr](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/diecrotic) | [writing updates](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/writing) | [instagram bc why not](https://www.instagram.com/diecrotic/) ||


	2. yaku, "i just need ten minutes"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was posted two years ago (2017) on august 12th, a few days after yaku's birthday, august 8th. i guess the story took place on that day too.
> 
> OMG I JUST REALIZED TODAY'S AUGUST 8TH HAPPY BIRTHDAY YAKU!!!

When Kuroo reappears outside their gym doors, drenched in sweat and frantic, Yaku has been standing there for nearly half an hour.

“Kuroo, are you done yet?” he asks, his frown deep.

Kuroo blinks as he stops mid-step, and then rapidly shakes his head. “No, no, no, not yet, Yakkun, not yet,” he says. His movements are jerky and rushed; it makes Yaku nervous. “Ten minutes, I just need ten minutes. Can you give me that?”

“You said that earlier, but I’ve been standing here for twenty.”

“Yeah, yeah, but ten more. I promise this time. Please?”

His grin is crooked but wide, overtly rattled, and Yaku can’t bring himself to further press his growing impatience when the guy has his hands pressed together in front of his chest. “What are you even doing in there?” he mutters, more to himself, and then sighs. “Fine, go. Hurry.”

“Thank you you’re the best hold on,” Kuroo hastily says, and then he runs off.

It takes all of Yaku’s cultivated discipline not to defy Kuroo’s earlier orders and just barge into the gym regardless of what’s taking place inside, because that’s the thing: he has no idea what’s taking place inside. But if Kuroo’s harrassed mannerisms and the occasional scream from Yamamoto are any indication, it can’t be anything good. Coupled with the fact that they’ve decided to leave Yaku out of their little shenanigans and Yaku is very, very concerned.

Still, he doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything he’ll regret, doesn’t give more than the raise of an eyebrow when Kuroo sprints past him with a small wave using the hand that doesn’t currently hold spray paint and throws himself back inside the gym. He tells himself he can trust them not to tear the building to shreds, but the nagging in his gut that disaster is about to strike doesn’t go away.

And then he hears Kai scream.

_Scream._

And just like that, all hell is loose, all restraint is gone, and he’s flying towards the doors and flinging them open, his mind completely free of Kuroo and his instructions and promises, completely expecting to see the gym trashed or filled with holes or on fire or all three.

Instead, what he sees are balloons, some inflated and most not, scattered on the floor; a banner haphazardly flung on the bleachers reading ‘Congration’; and an entire chocolate cake fallen to the ground at the center of a circle of his teammates, Kuroo gesturing angrily to the sticky heap, harshly muttering, “what the hell are we supposed to do, how are we gonna clean up this up in ten—”

And it all stops when they see him hovering by the doorway.

All their faces drip with shock, some with what Yaku can recognize as slight embarrassment and fear, but then Fukunaga moves his hands, lets his fingers wiggle in an almost unsightly manner, and says, “Surprise.”

Just like that, the sea of gapes becomes a sea of smiles, and every idiot surrounding the soiled cake yells, “SURPRISE!”

“Happy birthday, Yaku-san!” Shibayama heartily adds, and several others follow along with their own variations.

“Uh,” Yaku says, blinking at the banner, “thanks, but why is the party four days late?”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if we did it on the day itself, so I said we should do it after!” Lev says, grin extremely proud.

“Oh. Well. It worked, I guess.” Despite himself and the commotion before him, Yaku smiles as he approaches the ridiculous group and the pile of brown on the floor. He makes a face at it. “But geez, couldn’t you have thrown me a cleaner party?”

“Yeah, yeah, we can have a cleaning party after the actual one,” Kuroo says, no longer tense but still very much sweaty, as he bends down to pick up a chunk of fallen cake still somehow holding onto a candle, and lights the thing up. “You’ll have to settle for this cake and this setup, though. Make a wish.”

“I wish I had a bigger cake.”

“Yakkun. No. You’re not supposed to say it out loud or it won’t come true. See, this is why the cake didn’t make it. It saw the future. It predicted your mistakes.”

“Kuroo, quiet down and let Yaku make his wish,” Kai says, but he’s smiling regardless and it’s hard for Yaku not to do the same.

He lets out a deep, exasperated, fond exhale (as he usually does whenever he’s in this gym with these people), glances at each face that stares at him, waiting for him to extinguish his candle, and shakes his head. “You’re all kind of a mess without me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” Kuroo shrugs, grins wider.

Yaku smiles back, looks at his team, the balls in the cart, the failure of a banner, the even bigger failure of a cake, the chair that’s put to use usually only by the coaches whose screams of horror upon seeing the chocolate on the floor he can already hear, the gym doors, the little fire flickering by his face and the hand that holds it.

He blows the candle out, not a single desire in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this is the second yaku birthday fic i've written, and both of them involve the entire nekoma team's preparations failing lmao
> 
> || [tumblr](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/diecrotic) | [writing updates](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/writing) | [instagram bc why not](https://www.instagram.com/diecrotic/) ||


	3. kagehina, "you make me feel invincible"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was an anon request on tumblr, the second one of its kind, and i was a lost sheep while writing it. it's pretty much the only kagehina-esque thing i've ever written. after re-reading it two years later i realized i didn't treat it as a dialogue prompt and just made it more of a theme. ah well

He and Hinata take the same road every day, every afternoon after practice on the way home, and the sights become so familiar they’re almost exclusively background noise, a roll of film panning along the sides going unnoticed above their loud, chattering voices and the sound of Hinata’s bike tires against the asphalt.

One afternoon, however, Hinata looks at it.

They’re making their way up the concrete hill when he stops and stares out into the distance, one hand on his handlebars and the other on the guard rail. Below them lines of houses and more roads and just as many shadows stretch until Tobio can’t even see anymore, the pink sky and white clouds painting a picture of serenity for the average person.

Tobio blinks at it, then at Hinata who’s being surprisingly quiet, and decides today’s going to be a strange day. “What are you looking at?”

The wind blows in his face in place of an answer and he’s left watching Hinata’s body standing completely still, the only movement his wild hair moving almost too timidly in the breeze.

“You ever wonder what would happen if you jumped off of here?” Hinata does eventually say.

“What the hell? And here I thought you were thinking of something _not _stupid,” Tobio responds, but he approaches, keeps a hand close to Hinata’s. “You wouldn’t be able to survive that. We’re too high up.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, now—what, what, what are you doing?” Tobio feels himself shake when Hinata hoists a leg above the one thing on the high slope that keeps them safe, and then the other. “Dumbass, you’re going to fall!”

“Relax, I’ve done this before,” Hinata cranes his neck to say, his feet perched unsteadily on the narrow ledge beyond the rail, hands gripping the thing tight. “I do this sometimes when I kind of feel like flying.”

“What kind of idiot feels like flying and stands on a cliff?” Tobio demands, voice coming out louder now so he can hear himself above his own pulse. “We’re not birds and you’re gonna fall, now get out of there!”

“I’m not gonna fall!”

“You can only be sure of that if you get out—”

He feels his the entire world spin when he sees Hinata’s hands lift off of the railing, feels his lungs stop working when the entirety of Hinata’s form slowly lurches forward and into the open air. He sees Hinata fly often enough on the court that he half-expects the boy to defy gravity even here where it can kill him, but there’s a weight on his arm and he pushes it forward, spreads his hand out, reaches for the back of Hinata’s jacket anyway.

His fingers feel cold as they manage to grasp the fabric and with one trembling hand he drags Hinata back within the railing, and as if a fog has just left his mind, Hinata shrieks, flails, clings tightly onto Tobio and stares down below as though it’s the void and not a free fall he very nearly made.

“What, _now _you’re scared?” Tobio yells at him, close to wheezing. “You said you weren’t gonna fall and you fucking _jumped! _What’s wrong with you?”

“I—I don’t know!” is Hinata’s reply; _god, _he’s an airhead. “I just—I felt like I could do it just now!”

“Do _what?”_

“Survive that fall.” Hinata’s eyes are wide, just below Tobio’s chin. “Fly. I don’t know. I don’t know what came over me, I—I only feel that way when I’m…”

His hands fall back to his sides and he steps away, but his eyes are glued to Tobio’s. 

“…when I’m with you?”

There’s nothing either of them can do but stand in silence, until Tobio tries to catch his breath enough to make his frustrated growl heard so-and-so inches down. 

“Look, that’s great and all,” he says, “but don’t go jumping off of hills just because you feel like you can.”

Hinata makes a small noise, poises himself to start pushing his bike again. “You’d catch me every time anyways.”

“Try it again and I’ll prove you wrong.” Tobio takes one glance back at the horizon he feels like he’s never seen before, lets Hinata get a few steps ahead as he thinks: who is he kidding. He probably will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this reminded me i still have a ton of unaccomplished requests sdfksdsj
> 
> || [tumblr](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/diecrotic) | [writing updates](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/writing) | [instagram bc why not](https://www.instagram.com/diecrotic/) ||


	4. futakuchi, "don't you dare die on me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> baby's first futakuchi

“Kamasaki-san!”

Kenji’s chest tightens and he throws himself to the floor when Kamasaki doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. His skin is cold to the touch, only the whites of his eyes visible underneath the half-hearted cover of his eyelids, and it doesn’t change no matter how hard Kenji shakes him.

“Kamasaki-san, can you hear me? Oh god, what happened? Kamasaki-san, wake up. Please wake up,” he pleads, fingers trembling as they urgently tap Kamasaki’s peaceful face. “This can’t be happening. You can’t do this. You can’t leave us. Don’t you _dare_ die on me!”

Kamasaki’s leg twitches and not much else, but Kenji softly gasps anyway.

“Oh god,” he cries, “there’s still a chance. You’re still alive! Please, hang in there! Wake up!" He presses a hand against Kamasaki’s jaw, his chest and heart. He feels it beating, steadily then rapidly with every exhale and inhale, can’t help but wonder for how long. 

He can hear the rest of his team filing into the room, but they don’t approach and he doesn’t even look at them. He can’t. He wheezes, has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep all the ugly tears closed away. There’s no way he’s going to let his upperclassman see him cry. There’s no way.

"Everyone’s here,” he says, in his most gentle voice. Kamasaki’s face is soft against the light touch of his fingers. “We’re all here for you. Please don’t go. Please.”

Part of him knows it’s fruitless, all this pleading. Kamasaki is stubborn in the first place, but for him to listen to the likes of Kenji, nothing but a rude and cocky junior—it’s not possible. It isn’t, and Kenji knows this. Hates this.

It’s all his fault.

With a shaky breath, he leans, touches his forehead against Kamasaki’s, swallows the bitterness of the words he failed to say when he had the chance. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, ignores how the others are able to observe him at his most vulnerable. “I’m so sorry.”

Kamasaki doesn’t stir, probably doesn’t even hear him. He has to accept it.

“Kamasaki-san,” he says, one last time. “Goodbye.”

The gym is silent.

And finally, utterly exhausted, Kenji sighs.

“It didn’t work?” Obara asks from behind him.

“Nope. Damn, he sleeps like a log.” Kenji gets to his feet, nodding at Sakunami who immediately runs to fetch the bucket. “Guess we need to do this the old-fashioned way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't think i've ever written something that takes him seriously lmao. i will someday though
> 
> || [tumblr](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/diecrotic) | [writing updates](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/writing) | [instagram bc why not](https://www.instagram.com/diecrotic/) ||


	5. kinonoya, "i'm your husband; it's my job"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a ship i'd never thought i'd write for but i'm glad i did anyway

It’s not everyday that Yuu manages to get up before Hisashi does (in fact, it’s not any day at all) so this morning, he’s quick to rush to the kitchen, turn the stove on, and get breakfast started. He’s not much of a cook, and he’s certainly never made pickled ginger nor fried rice without supervision before, but he’s excited nevertheless. He cracks the eggs, hums to himself as he whisks sauces together, can already see Hisashi’s impressed face and feel a well-deserved sleepy embrace coming along.

Everything’s gonna be great. Everything’s going to turn out perfectly—

Everything’s on fire.

Well, not everything, just the oven mitts and the table cloth and some snacks, but Yuu screams like everything is anyway, his already powerful voice even louder and borderline obnoxious than it usually is as he takes a split second to try and pull all his hair out. 

That second passes quickly, as it should, and his next few are spent pacing the kitchen, feet bringing him places his mind doesn’t think to go because his mind isn’t really thinking right now, and how can it, _the kitchenis burning because I tried to cook I’m so dumb. _And when he stops pacing, it’s only so he can stare, open-mouthed, at the mess he’s made until he finally finds the sense, the courage (or lack of it), to desperately cry out: 

_“Hisashi!”_

Barely a single beat later, urgent footsteps are sounding in the hall and Hisashi, hair clearly not quite recovered from post-sleep symptoms, rushes in wielding the fire extinguisher he’d bought for their third anniversary—because I love us and I want us to not die, he said—and Yuu flinches as the gas comes shooting out, white covering the flickering orange glow of flame.

By the time both the cloud and fire are gone, they’re both panting.

“Are you okay?” Hisashi asks, arms relaxing.

“Yeah.” Yuu doesn’t think his chest has risen and fallen this greatly since high school volleyball. “Shit, I set something on fire. Shit, you put it out. God, I’m stupid. Thank you.”

“I’m your husband; it’s my job.”

“To put out all my house fires.”

“Yeah.”

“And untangle me from the bed sheets.”

“Yep.”

“And fix all the other stupid shit I cause.”

“In summary, yeah.”

Yuu feels something stutter in his chest, but he only comically sniffles, pretends to rub moisture away from his eyes. “This is why I married you.”

Hisashi snorts (such a cranky baby, he is, when his sleep is interrupted) and sprays the extinguisher at Yuu’s legs before retreating. Yuu knows that’s a kiss in Hisashi-in-the-morning speak, though, so he grins, calls out, “I love you!”

The, “Love you too,” comes quickly, and he pounds his chest and smiles for a solid minute before assessing the morning’s damage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/diecrotic) | [writing updates](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/writing) | [instagram bc why not](https://www.instagram.com/diecrotic/) |


	6. aone, “i gotta say, you look good in that”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the stupidest thing i've ever written. also the shortest

Futakuchi leans against his locker in the club room, spinning his towel around in the air while examining Aone a few feet away, occupied with transferring belongings from his locker to his bag.

When he’s had enough of that, he grins. “Hey, Aone.”

Aone looks up.

“I gotta say, you look really good in that.”

And then he frowns, creased forehead and pursed lips and all. “But,” he starts, studies his own newly-showered, half-naked body, “this is just a towel.”

Futakuchi’s response is a wink and finger guns.

When Aone blinks at him and then at his own hands and then all everything in his immediate surroundings, Futakuchi only dances away, satisfied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/diecrotic) | [writing updates](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/writing) | [instagram bc why not](https://www.instagram.com/diecrotic/) ||


	7. iwaoi, "wait a minute. are you jealous?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my first iwaoi, written for cass on tumblr!

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Hajime started at the sound of his husband’s voice, and moved his eyes away from the trees and the sky and everything else he thought to look at to distract himself to lock their gazes. Tooru looked a little too good with a baby—Takahiro and Issei’s quite cute, newly-adopted son, to be exact—bundled up and sleeping in his arms and his face covered in a mix of shock and concern, a stark contrast to all the cutesy faces he’d been making since he was put in charge of the child.

“What would I be jealous of?” Hajime asked.

“Well, I’ve been cuddling Makki and Mattsun’s little baby for a while now.” He lightly rocked the boy, gave Hajime an expectant, cheeky grin. “Maybe my big baby Iwa-chan wants a little affection too?”

“Psh. Get real.”

“No, seriously,” Tooru said, dropping the act and studying him in earnest, “is something the matter? You’ve been really quiet and staring at—well, anything _but me_ since we got here. _Are_ you jealous? Do you want to hold him too?”

The extraordinary sensation had been plaguing him since they got here, indeed, but Hajime considered it more ‘longing’ than it was ‘jealousy’. Takahiro and Issei were still perpetually ten-year olds but still an old married couple, certainly getting old now that they were going to have an actual ten-year old in their family some years into the future. They looked so happy and seemed to fit so well together, all three of them, that Hajime couldn’t help his imagination running wild, forming images in which life was the same for him—for him and for the man that he yearned to become the same kind of sappy, overjoyed, old married couple with.

Maybe it was jealousy after all.

“Okay, fine, I’m jealous,” he admitted, held a hand up when Tooru moved to pass the sleeping boy onto him, “but not of you, or the baby.”

“Then who?”

Hajime exhaled through his nose. “The…proud parents.”

Tooru’s contemplative expression froze on his face well enough for Hajime to watch it slowly change, melt amidst a sea of light pink skin and into one of wide eyes and teeth sinking into lips and rapid blinks. He swallowed, turned away, but even at an angle Hajime could see the unrealistic curl of his mouth, desperate not to form a smile, and the slight tremble of his fingers equally desperate not to suddenly drop the fragile life he had in his hands.

“Huh,” he said, voice shaking in the same way it did whenever there was a surprise he didn’t want to spoil, and laughed, “and here I thought you’ve had enough of _me_ crying and waking you up at night.”

“Sometimes,” Hajime said, after his own short laugh. “But you’re not quite the right size.” 

This time, Tooru allowed his smile to reach his slightly-teary eyes, directed both of them at Hajime. “Are you serious?” he whispered, like he couldn’t afford to speak any louder.

“When am I ever not about you?”

Tooru squeezed his eyes shut, the wrinkling of his nose pulling at Hajime’s own smile, and took one deep and controlled breath. “We need to find Makki and Mattsun and give them their baby back.”

“Hm? Why?”

“So that I can _hug you—”_ Tooru hurled himself in Hajime’s direction, stopped himself from crashing just in time to plant a quick kiss on his husband’s cheek “—and we can talk about our own.”

He trotted away, quickly but carefully enough not to jostle their best friends’ pride and joy awake, and as he followed, Hajime’s smile didn’t fade, knowing full well and yet still excited to see just how good Tooru was going to be with a kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/diecrotic) | [writing updates](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/writing) | [instagram bc why not](https://www.instagram.com/diecrotic/) ||


	8. oikage, "you need to wake up because i can’t do this without you"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's the Them again

The only thing Tooru could think to do with the final remnants of his courage and energy was to shake Tobio with all his might. “Tobio!“ he cried, unaware that his fingernails were digging into Tobio’s shoulder. “Tobio, wake up, please. Please wake up!”

His breathing changed, hitched ever so slightly, but his eyes were shut, brows knitted together from whatever battle he was fighting in his state of unconsciousness. Tooru pulled him closer. “Please,” he cried, resting a hand against Tobio’s face, resting their foreheads against each other’s, “wake up. You need to wake up; I—I can’t do this without you!”

Tobio twitched beneath him and Tooru gasped, pulled away as his eyelids began to quiver with the effort of rising from their relaxed state. His blue eyes seemed to come out from behind a grand curtain, looking at Tooru for the first time since who knew when, his voice a miracle sound that made its way to Tooru’s ears and settled in his heart.

“Tooru?” he said hoarsely. “What’s going on?”

“Tobio! You’re awake! Thank god!” Tooru cried, brought to smile, stepped away from their living room couch step by hurried step until he was on the other side of the room, and pointed almost right above Tobio’s head. “There’s a big spider on the window and we need to kill it.”

_“What?” _Tobio yelled, his scrambling off the couch turning into outright falling off it and landing on the floor with a _thud _that would have been painful, probably, if not for the adrenaline coursing through his newly-risen veins. He clambered across the living room, grabbed the fly swatter Tooru had prepared but apparently not used laid out on the coffee table, didn’t use it either. 

He cringed at the furry thing by the curtain. “I hate spiders more than you! I can’t help you kill that thing!”

“I know!”

“_Then why did you wake me up?”_

“At least now—” Tooru opened his arms with a hopeful smile “—we can be scared _together!”_

Tobio took in a sharp breath, lifted his arm to maybe use the fly swatter _on something_ after all, but only lightly slapped Tooru’s face with it and fled for the bedroom, grabbing their entire jar of snacks from the table in his wake. “I’m hiding until you get it sorted out. Good luck!”

“NO!” Tooru yelled against their now-locked bedroom door, threw a dirty glance at the creature that had taken his partner-in-crime as well as his snacks, made a face at the door once again. “At least give me back the swatter!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "yes, they are all idiots, aren't they" --spongebob narrator
> 
> || [tumblr](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/diecrotic) | [writing updates](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/writing) | [instagram bc why not](https://www.instagram.com/diecrotic/) |


	9. iwaoi, "you heard me. take. it. off"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all these iwaois were for cass :3c

“Take it off.”

Oikawa, fresh out his own front door and walking with a bounce in his step (up till now anyway), stopped at the final porch step and blinked. He looked exactly like he did every morning Hajime swung by his house—hair tidy, uniform on straight, bag slung on his shoulder—with the exception of the cold mask strapped to the bottom half of his face. In the middle of June.

“What?” his muffled voice said.

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“But—but—” he tried, holding his hands up to touch the mask like Hajime would ambush him and yank it off if he didn’t (and Hajime _wouldn’t_, for the record), “I need it, I’m—I’m sick. Achoo.”

“Save your unconvincing achoos for someone who’ll buy them,” Hajime said, almost glad for the furrow that formed through Oikawa’s eyebrows. At least he wasn’t feigning innocence anymore. “It’s too hot for a cold mask and you aren’t sick. So what are you hiding under there?”

The furrow deepened, and Oikawa crossed his arms, muttered.

“Can’t hear you.”

“I have…a…” More muttering.

“Oikawa.”

“I have a _blemish, _okay, I have a blemish,” he admitted, trailing his eyes across the sky no matter how sunny it was, intent on avoiding the judgmental gaze he was (wrongly) expecting from Hajime, “and it’s big. And noticeable, and I’m ugly as hell.”

Hajime honestly doubted that. “What kind?”

“Nothing you need to know about!” Oikawa snapped. “You’re the last person I want to hate me.”

“And I’m also the last person who’s going to, let alone about a zit or something. It doesn’t matter, Oikawa. You don’t have to hide. People have them and it’s normal, and no one’s gonna suddenly call you ugly because of it.”

“I know!” he cried, shielding his entire face with his hands. “I know. I know they’re not gonna call me ugly, or embarrassing, and it’s stupid but I—” He took a breath. “I think I’m ugly and embarrassing. And that’s worse. It’s the worst, and I’m the worst, and I don’t want to be the worst.”

For all his strength as their captain, for all his bravery on the court, Oikawa was a sensitive soul. He knew all about other people, knew how to bring the best in them that nobody knew even existed, and yet could never guess with himself, managed to put himself down more than anybody else cared to. It wasn’t knowledge that just anyone had or knew how to deal with, and sometimes, Hajime feared he wasn’t equipped to handle it either.

But the difference was that he would try, and that he would never stop trying if it meant he could fill a hollow inside of the one person he cared for more than his own life, who didn’t quite care for himself enough. He rested a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder, pressed his lips to Oikawa’s even with the cover of the mask.

“We have a long walk to school,” Hajime said, as Oikawa meekly stared at him, “and I’m going to use it to convince you that you’re not ugly or embarrassing and you don’t need the mask. But if keeping it on’ll make you feel better, that’s fine. We’ll stop by the store on the way to school to get you some cream for it. That sound okay?”

There was only a brief pause before Oikawa’s eyes were crinkling in that way Hajime really loved to see. “Sounds good. Thanks, Iwa-chan.”

“Sure,” Hajime said, as they set off to finally leave Oikawa’s front yard. “While we’re at it, though, you should work on your fake sneeze.”

“My fake sneeze was fine!”

“Nah, yours was like ‘achoo’. It should be more ‘a_choo’_.”

“A_choo!”_

“A_choo!”  
_

_“Achoo!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/diecrotic) | [writing updates](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/writing) | [instagram bc why not](https://www.instagram.com/diecrotic/) ||


	10. oikage, "you fainted…straight into my arms.  you know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is nostalgic...

When he came to, he wasn’t in his room with the curtains drawn and the sun was no longer up. The first thing he saw was the starry sky, curiously blinking down at him and his stinging eyes and heavy head and ice-cold skin for some reason lying on something hard and in the middle of the street.

The second thing he saw was, right above him, the curious face of Oikawa Tooru.

He remembered waking up that morning bombarded by the same sickly sensations, but he’d gotten up anyway, not willing to miss practice because of some measly cold or fever or whatever. He remembered racing with Hinata as usual, giving exercises his all as usual, falling half-asleep through all his lessons as usual, giving exercises during afternoon practice his all as well as usual, and then wheezing as he headed back home, head throbbing and thinking that all of those had been very stupid, terrible decisions.

Decisions that apparently led him to lose consciousness and awaken with his head on Oikawa’s lap.

Tobio screamed.

“Ow!” Oikawa cried, bringing a finger to his ear. “Are you like this every time you wake up? Are you your own personal alarm clock?”

“_Oikawa-san, what happened?”_

_ __ _

“You fainted,” he said matter-of-factly, before the corners of his lips were turning up in a wicked smile, “straight into my arms.”

_ __ _

Any ounce of warmth Tobio could’ve still had left him all at once. “I—I did not.”

_ __ _

“You did too. It was actually pretty surprising. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

_ __ _

“What—how could I have wanted your attention? I didn’t even know you were there!”

_ __ _

“Excuses are uncool, Tobio-chan.”

_ __ _

“I’m _leaving_—”

_ __ _

“Whoa, slow down! Running away from me isn’t going to help your diseased ass get any better. Here, let me help you.”

_ __ _

“I’d rather save myself from a night of your gloating.”

_ __ _

“I’m not gonna—” Oikawa said, paused to sigh. “I’m not gonna gloat. Not even gonna talk. See?” He brought his fingers to his lips and mimed zipping them up, but then made a face, mimed unzipping them. “Just let me help you get home. I’m gonna feel too guilty if I leave you alone and it shows on the news that you got run over because you got knocked out cold on your way back. Unless there’s someone else you’d rather call to help you. That’s fine too.”

_ __ _

His face was different from the kind Tobio usually saw looking at him, dispassionate and either cold or confrontational. Right now, he was nothing but serious, still a little cold but waiting for him to speak like he was another person rather than just a rival. It was odd, and sent an equally odd feeling bubbling up in his stomach, but he could boil that down to the fever, probably.

_ __ _

“Um, no, I don’t have anyone, really,” he said.

_ __ _

“Well then, you’re stuck with me. Come on, let’s get you up. _Slowly_ this time.”

_ __ _

Oikawa’s hand resting against his back as he carefully sat up was warm, just as warm as the one gripping his arm without hesitation, and though his head hurt like hell, he managed to get his feet off of their little bench and back on the ground, managed to take a good look at Oikawa still in his school uniform with—

_ __ _

Tobio narrowed his eyes. “What happened to your knee?”

_ __ _

The fabric of his pants was completely frayed, the skin now exposed from underneath evidently red and scabbing even in the cover of the night. Oikawa covered it up. “Nothing, I just—” he said, frowning, eyes staring far away. “I ran a little bit earlier and slid on my knees. Not important.”

_ __ _

“Why’d you do that?”

_ __ _

“Not important!” he cried loudly, voice rising a few notches, and quickly stood up. “We need to go now. Put your arm around me.”

_ __ _

He did, right after Oikawa claimed custody over his bag saying it was “too heavy for a sick old man to have on his person”, and as they made their way home Tobio couldn’t help but wonder whether his entire day’s worth of decisions truly had been as stupid and terrible as he’d initially thought.

_ __ _

Well, they were definitely stupid. But not all that terrible. 

_ __ _

_ __ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...because when i wrote it i was battling the worst case of food poisoning i'd ever had in my life, and was sent to the emergency room not long after LMAO i care more about writing than my life
> 
> || [tumblr](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/diecrotic) | [writing updates](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/writing) | [instagram bc why not](https://www.instagram.com/diecrotic/) ||


	11. oikage, "hey, i’m with you, okay? always”

Grocery shopping with Tobio was a different sort of adventure all the time, complete with arguing over brands and filling the cart with unnecessary junk and crying over things their broke-college-kid wallets couldn’t afford, which was why weeks before he was set to depart for his overseas exchange program, Tooru was quick to drag both of them off to the nearest store, expecting to—other than manage to buy everything he needed for his four-month trip, of course—enjoy a casual day with his boyfriend, one of the lasts of its kind until he came back in August.

What he didn’t expect was for said boyfriend to be unnaturally quiet all the way through.

“Hey,” Tooru called, if not for the fifth time then more, once they reached the hair care section, “which one of these do you think would be good to get? I was looking at these two the other day and I couldn’t choose just one, but I can’t afford both. What do you think?”

Tobio, hands jammed in his coat pockets, took a brief, lazy look at the bottles Tooru gestured to, and simply shrugged.

Crossing his arms, Tooru sighed. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“’What’s wrong’?” Tobio repeated, his face that had been dull since they met up finally picking up some emotion, yet one that Tooru couldn’t identify solely based on the furrow of his brows. “You mean other than the fact that you’re making me help you shop for when you leave me for half a year?”

Tooru blinked. “What? Wait. Are you—are you mad that I’m leaving?”

“You’re gonna be out of the country for months! So many things can happen, like—you meeting other people. Or you liking it better there than here. Or—or you just forgetting I exist. Is it really so surprising for me to be worried about it?”

“Hey,” Tooru said again, gently, brushing his hands against Tobio’s shoulders and then his cheeks, looking him straight in the eye, “hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

“Yeah, you’re with me while you’re a few thousand miles away. That makes perfect sense.”

More than bitterness, there was a strangled, repressed hurt in his voice that squeezed at Tooru’s chest. He would never leave Tobio, not after all he’d gone through to be with him in the first place, and he knew that for certain, now and a few days ago when he’d gone out to a store filled with other men staring at diamonds in glass cases. He let out a breath, watched Tobio avoid his gaze like there was no reason for their eyes to meet anymore, clutched at his bag where he knew his purchase from those few days ago would be.

He didn’t really want to do this in the middle of the grocery store, but Tooru didn’t think any words he pulled from his lips would be able to get his point across better than his gift would. Without speaking but with a hurried sort of determination, he rummaged through his things, didn’t stop until he was sure he had Tobio’s attention, and brought out a black box.

Tobio’s eyes went wide as he opened it.

“I’m not—I’m not asking you to marry me. Yet. Um, obviously,” Tooru started, glancing at the two less than fancy rings inside of the box, and _damn it_, he wasn’t supposed to be awkward. He knew he should’ve written down an outline for his speech sooner. “But think of this as a promise. That…though I’m not here with you, I’m never really going anywhere. And that you’ll always be on my mind, and that you’re the only one for me, no matter where I am.”

He fumbled with the box, took one of the rings and slipped it on, overwhelmed by the heat of his own face and almost physically incapable of bringing himself to meet Tobio’s shimmering eyes, but doing so anyway. “Can I…expect the same from you?”

Tobio looked at him with a soft yet sharp inhale, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that Tooru also had every right to be worried about getting left behind, being forgotten in the time that they weren’t side by side. He bit his lip, the corners turning up to form his usual sheepish and beautiful smile, and nodded vigorously.

He looked like an excited little puppy, Tooru thought, wearing a smile of his own as he took the other band and tenderly looped it around Tobio’s ring finger. He heard a distant, “Aww!” echo from the far end of the aisle but he only closed his eyes and grinned further, buried his face in the crook of Tobio’s neck as they locked themselves in a tight embrace.

“Sorry for being a jerk,” Tobio mumbled against his shoulder. “I love you, Tooru.”

“I love you more,” Tooru said, pulling away only to be able to plant a quick and soft kiss against Tobio’s smiling lips and lace their hands together, their matching silver bands knocking together as they once again turned to the shampoo. “Now, Smooth and Sleek or Peach Pump Moist?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || [tumblr](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/diecrotic) | [writing updates](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/writing) | [instagram bc why not](https://www.instagram.com/diecrotic/) ||


	12. iwaoi, "kiss me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i still remember how stressed i got working with prompts that were outright romantic, pulling my hair out thinking, "how do i make this LESS OVERT"

The daily walk from school was, most days, composed of an energetic Tooru and a faux-deadpan Iwaizumi that tolerated give or take seventy percent of bullshit. But some days, ones that were dreary no matter how bright, exhausting no matter how smooth-sailing, Tooru found himself dragging his feet back home, forcing conversation out of his system for the sake of preserving routine and preventing unwarranted worry (you could guess from who). Today was one of those days, it seemed, and halfway back home he and Iwaizumi were in the middle of a heated conversation about the weather and Tooru really, _really _wished he could face-plant onto his bed and sleep right now.

He also kind of wished Iwaizumi would kiss him better.

That was like a special talent he had, Iwaizumi—the ability to decide to kiss Tooru at just the right time. Tooru didn’t even have to say anything; on days that he felt down and needed comfort, Iwaizumi would touch his cheek and softly press their lips together, and on days he was starved for affection, Iwaizumi would wrap him in an almost strangling embrace and kiss him like tomorrow would never come, leaving Tooru amazed and breathless all the time. Sometimes he thought it was an actual magic power, honestly wished it was so he could receive the love and care he craved for without the burden of words.

It didn’t happen all the time, though. Maybe it was all a bunch of coincidences after all. 

Glad to finally be on his own front doorstep some moments later, Tooru turned to offer Iwaizumi his most convincing smile (and by now, he was an expert at faking it) and goodbye. “Iwa—”

But Iwaizumi cut him off, pulled him into a gentle kiss.

They were still but the contact seemed to last for ages, Iwaizumi’s lips warm and comforting and his hand rubbing Tooru’s neck. Tooru’s chest ached, heart swelled at every soothing stroke, and he wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist, pulling him even closer, kissing back even deeper.

Tooru cursed the limitations of breathing as they pulled away, took a moment to breathe before asking, “How—how do you do that?”

Iwaizumi's expression was plain, like he hadn’t just cast some kind of spell. “Do what?”

“How do you know _every time_ that I want you to kiss me when I don’t say anything?”

He searched Iwaizumi’s face, studied every part, but Tooru would never be able to find his answer: that at one look into his eyes, Iwaizumi could see through to his heart; that all their years spent together whirled in Iwaizumi’s memory and gave him a new lens to look through—one that knew anything and everything about his very best friend, his first and only love—to know how Tooru ticked; that there was no longer a need for any words to be spoken through the mouth because Tooru’s gaze always said plenty, as long as Iwaizumi could meet it, and that during his most vulnerable moments, times when he needed love, that deep gaze always reached out to him, screaming:

“Kiss me.”

Tooru wouldn’t know any of this, not now anyway, because all Iwaizumi had to give in answer was a shrug and a casual: “Guess I just get lucky. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow. Call if you need anything.”

He wouldn’t know any of it, not through words, but as Iwaizumi leaned over to give him one last peck on the cheek, he couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but be glad that out of the million people in the world, it was Iwaizumi he had looking into his eyes and kissing him every now and again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't do well with love, but i manage
> 
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	13. ennotana, "it’s not what it looks like”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for [ryekamasaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryekamasaki) as a birthday gift! it was also [her](https://twitter.com/ryekamasaki) request though!

The scene of the crime one cloudy Saturday afternoon, just about an hour after lunch, could only be described like this: the victim, a gorgeous and pure-hearted man named Tanaka Ryuunosuke, stuck in a bout of paralysis, body standing by the doorway of a shared apartment, hand trembling on the doorframe, staring in horror at the form crouched in front of the fridge—the offender, an equally gorgeous man named Ennoshita Chikara, a man Ryu trusted with all his being, with something wet and white staining the corners of his parted, gaping lips.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Chikara tried.

Ryu wouldn’t be swayed by such nonsense. “Really?“ he questioned. “Because it looks like you’re eating out of my tub of ice cream.”

The offender glanced at the tub in question, clutched almost desperately in the hand that wasn’t holding a vanilla-covered spoon (the murder weapon; clear as day), and breathed in. Guilty. Caught red-handed. “Okay, I am, I’m sorry,” he admitted hurriedly, and Ryu felt like all his air had been knocked out of his lungs. “I’m really sorry, but—I finished mine a few days ago and I really needed something sweet because lunch was so spicy—”

“I can’t believe this,” Ryu cried, the confession thrusting itself into his side like the knife of a mugger. “My own kin, my own flesh and blood—”

“We’re not related.”

“—going against me! The betrayal! The treachery! And here I thought you actually liked me!”

“I do! I’m really sorry, Ryu, really, but—here, I haven’t finished it yet, see? There’s still loads left; you can have it all. Do you want some now to make you feel better? Here, I can—”

Ryu gasped, gawked at the spoonful of creamy goodness being brought to his mouth. “Chikara!” he cried, absolutely scandalized. “That would be like an indirect kiss!”

Chikara blinked at him. “Um. We’re dating?”

“Still!”

“And I’ve given you more direct kisses than I can count?”

“Then give me one now, to make it up to me!”

“What—are you really mad or is all this just to get me to kiss you?“

“Either one. You need to pay for your crimes, sir.”

The offender, though still very much at fault, gave a smile that could soften hearts and pardon criminals. His hand that grabbed Ryu’s shoulder and pulled him closer was firm but kind, loving, and no one tub of dessert could ever beat the taste of his lips, soft and still and sweet. The flavours of justice, just the way Ryu liked it.

He smiled and inhaled the sugary air of the apartment as they pulled apart. “All right, you’ve been pardoned.”

“I really am sorry, though. I should have asked first.”

“No, it’s cool. I ate out of your tub last week while you were gone too.”

Ryu, the gorgeous and now-appeased victim, grinned as his own pun registered his mind (‘it’s cool’; pure comedic genius), but as he turned around for some well-deserved validation, what he received was completely different: Ennoshita Chikara, the love of his life, still as a rock, clutching a spoon like he would a sword, wearing a glare dressed in darkness, his lidded eyes seeking absolution—the face of a man ready to kill.

Tanaka Ryuunosuke, a fool, didn’t die a hero but lived long enough to see himself become the villain. He was the offender now, and Chikara was less than forgiving.

He swallowed. “Can I at least get a trial?”

“If by trial you mean you run, and I chase you all the way to the convenience store freezer, then yes.”

He’d take it. Ryu bolted out of their apartment and hoped his volleyball-hardened legs could carry him to the nearest place that sold Häagen-Dazs fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ennotana community is one of the bests in the entire fandom, really
> 
> || [tumblr](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/diecrotic) | [writing updates](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/writing) | [instagram bc why not](https://www.instagram.com/diecrotic/) ||


	14. kinkage, "i’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last of it, i promise. and what better way to end with some kinkages?

“Kindaichi, don’t think I don’t know what’s going on with you.”

Yuutarou stopped in his tracks, felt his blood run cold. In all their months of walking home together, meeting up halfway through Karasuno and Seijoh just because they could and finally liked each other enough to, Kageyama had never been the one to initiate the conversation. Newly-done with practice (they all were), he was usually too engrossed in whatever food he’d bought himself to regain energy to start talking, leaving Yuutarou or occasionally a complaining Kunimi to fill the silence.

But today, his eyes were on Yuutarou, and his bun was still fully intact. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

He could feel himself sweating. Yuutarou had spent so long, given _so much _effort to keeping himself contained these last few months, to keep what was bound to turn into lingering looks of longing short, to keep from blushing at every upturn of the corner of Kageyama’s lips no matter how beautiful each one was. He had tried so hard, and yet somehow Kageyama figured it out anyway, probably thought he was some sort of a weirdo now. A stalker, a creep. A love-struck idiot, and it stung to think that somehow, he wouldn’t be wrong.

“Kindaichi,” Kageyama called again, and Yuutarou wondered if he should still bother to deny it at this point, if he and Kunimi both looking at him like they were in the middle of an interrogation could still be fooled by words despite Yuutarou’s pink cheeks and shaking hands.

But the moment he opened his mouth, he knew it would be foolish—cowardly—to try. He met Kageyama’s expectant eyes for but a brief second before he closed his own, lowered his head. “I’m so sorry,” he said, hands gripping too tightly at the hem of his school blazer. “I know I probably seem like a creep hanging around you like this and if you want me to leave you alone from now on, I’ll understand, but I—I don’t know how to get rid of a crush I’ve had for so long—”

“Wait, what?”

“What?” 

Kageyama had wide eyes and a mouth hanging open. _“You have a crush on me?”_

Yuutarou blanched. “You—you said you already knew!”

“I just thought you wanted a bite of my pork bun!”

His entire body felt encased in ice, a heavy weight like a bludgeon being crushed against his chest, and only when Kunimi covered his mouth to muffle his hearty, “Oh, shit,” did Yuutarou finally manage to turn away, determined to rush home as quickly as possible and hide his shame and red face and stupid mouth from the rest of the world for as long as need be, perhaps the next seventy years or however much time left he had in his lifespan because simply put, _what the actual fuck—_

“Wait! Kindaichi, wait!”

He wasn’t going to fall for it; Yuutarou sped up.

“Kindaichi!”

Along with the almost desperate call of his name came a rough grip on his arm, and though Yuutarou wouldn’t yield that easily (not after what he’d just said; never after that), he couldn’t bring himself to break free, shove Kageyama away, because it wasn’t his fault that Yuutarou had just made a giant fool of himself and he didn’t need to be taking any shit for it.

But at the same time, Yuutarou didn’t think he could ever look him in the eye again, or hear his voice without thinking that every sound that passed his lips was a reminder of what an embarrassment Yuutarou was.

“Please don’t run,” Yuutarou heard Kageyama say, could hear the plea even without turning to examine Kageyama’s face. “It’s okay.”

Yuutarou could think of a million ways to argue how _not_ okay it was, but Kageyama was adamant to keep him in place, merely listening. “We _just_ started walking home together again,” he said. “I don’t want to stop just like this. It’s okay. Keep walking home with me, please.”

His hold on Yuutarou’s sleeve was tight, but the pain on his arm was nothing compared to the cruel squeeze of his chest. Kageyama valued their walking home together, valued their newfound friendship after years of strain, and it should’ve made him happy, he valued it too, but the part of him that wanted more was screaming. The part of him he’d suppressed for so long right before it bursted at the seams wanted to burst to the full, burst until there was nothing left of him that yearned and ached and fell into disappointment.

But he could only keep it quiet yet again, for the sake of their friendship. Their friendship was more important than that would ever be.

Taking a deep breath, Yuutarou finally turned to Kageyama, tried his hand at a natural smile. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Kageyama repeated, before releasing Yuutarou’s sleeve and searching for Kunimi, lingering in the back with his hands in his pockets.

He offered a crooked grin. “Am I still allowed to tag along?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Not going on a date or something?”

“Some other time.”

Yuutarou felt his heart stop. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—_what?” _he cried, his knees buckling and bringing him several feet back.

Kageyama blinked at him. “What?”

“We’re going on a _date?”_

“I thought you said you liked me.”

“I—I do! But you—do you—do you like _me?”_

“Um, yeah? Didn’t I just say so?”

“_No!_ You just said ‘it’s okay’ and that you want to keep walking home together!”

“Oh. Well…that’s what I meant by that.” If not for the adrenaline coursing through his veins and the innocence of Kageyama’s embarrassed little frown, Yuutarou would’ve ripped all his hair out. “Do, um—_do _you want to go on a date sometime?”

“Yes! Yes, what the fuck, of course! God!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay, good.”

“_Yeah!”_

“Something tells me,” Kunimi muttered to no one in particular, not that Yuutarou could still hear as he and Kageyama pulled each other into the tightest embrace either of them had ever imagined, “that you two are going to be so, _so _terrible at this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i stopped doing the tumblr shorts after this because i got stuck on two massage prompts
> 
> || [tumblr](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/diecrotic) | [writing updates](http://kakkoweeb.tumblr.com/writing) | [instagram bc why not](https://www.instagram.com/diecrotic/) ||


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